I Fell Again
by countrygirls86
Summary: She knew he would forever have her heart. Once, mistakenly, she thought she had it back, but he proved she never will. She hoped she wouldn't miss him when he left, but knew she would. He was a man she shouldn't love. What happens when she faces the truth
1. Chapter 1

**The song is Silly Me by Reba McEntire. I hope you enjoy this! It was really long so I had to cut it into two chapters....:)**

In the dark living room of Reba Hart's home, a man, laying on his back, was dead asleep on the couch. His legs made a four, and one arm rested on his stomach while the other was thrown over his head. The only sound that could be heard was his mild snoring. The light blankets had nearly fallen off the couch, and only covered his thighs and lower stomach. The cold air around him didn't seem to bother him at all as his dreams swept him away to his own little world. Sitting in the chair facing the couch, a woman with her legs drawn up to her chin watched the man's chest rise and fall. She knew if he was to wake up and catch her, it would be a difficult story to explain, but then again she wasn't expecting him to wake up at all. He had been sick all week, being forced to take medication which knocked him out completely. This had been her spot for the past five nights, and not once had he awoken before she went back to her room. Her eyes traveled upwards to his face. The powerful blues she had always and would always love to look into were blocked by his eyelids, but still she could see them perfectly. Wrapping her arms tighter around her legs, her eyes traveled back to his chest. Everytime she looked at his face the urge to touch him shot through her body like a shock of electricity. Last night, it had almost been too much for her, and she had moved to sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch instead of the chair she sat in now. It had been too close for her comfort, but then, at the same time, she desperately wanted his touch. Helping him through his divorce had driven her crazy. He was always around, needing comfort from a friend. Those little touches and hugs of reassurance and friendship had slowly turned into something more. Something she had fought hard to ignore. Why did he have to come to her when his life was turned upside down? He had to have had other friends; male friends to wash away the pain with by going to bars and strip clubs. Anyone and anywhere but her and here. To be so close to him had nearly broken her down into sharing all she was feeling, but had she felt then what she felt now? No, she hadn't. She was long past feeling anything but kindness towards him. So what had made that tiny spark grow again?

_Reba watched him leave her kitchen for the sixth night in a row. He was returning home to the one he loved, even if it was to sign the papers she had gotten that morning. Reba sighed, waving towards him as he turned back around to glance at her. She closed the door, taking a deep breath and wishing this wasn't such a hard thing to do. Well, she actually wished she wasn't involved, but when your two best friends were married, you tended to be dragged into the middle of every little thing. She ran a hand over her face before taking off her work jacket. It smelled like him. She rolled her eyes, glad the kids were all out of town for the week to visit her parents. Otherwise they would have gone without dinner tonight. Reba slipped out of her boots, realizing she could still smell Brock on her clothes. Maybe they had been hugging too much. She quickly made her way to her bathroom, enjoying the thought of a nice warm lavendar scented bubble bath. Easing into the hot water, Reba recounted their conversation. Barbra Jean and Brock's marriage didn't stand a chance and both, well technically all three, had decided they needed to call it quits. Another precious marriage lost because of her. Had it been all her fault in both cases; she didn't know. All she did know was Brock had left her after twenty years. She had to have done something to turn him away from her. Maybe she had been too controling, but was that really a reason to end it like he had? She had loved him with all her heart. Couldn't he see that? Didn't he know how deeply her love had been for him? It didn't matter now. They had been over for four years, and one of those she had spent not loving him. The other three were spent crying, for him to return, non-stop every night. Reba sank deeper into the bathtub, the bubbles popping near her ears. And now, Barbra Jean accused Brock of still loving her. She claimed Brock would some day realize what was so evident to everyone else and leave her. Brock, of course, had denied everything, saying he had better things to do than have a secret affair with his ex. That, in itself, had hurt Reba, knowing that was how he had to feel towards the end of their own marriage. Reba felt the tears filling her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. After weeks and weeks of talking with both married adult and friend, she found out all the little things that were covered up by Barbra Jean's accusations. They weren't heading in the right direction, and slowly had found they were no longer on the same page. All Reba had to do was listen and stay up all night with whomever, mostly Brock, was staying at her house for the night. Reba pictured the look on Brock's tan face as he walked out the back door. He was crushed to have ended another marriage, to have disappointed his family all over again. Reba scoffed at the idea of him feeling guilty, the tears no longer wanting to fall. He should have seen the signs coming and worked with Barbra Jean on it. He deserved to be going through another divorce. He deserved to feel horrible and depressed for a few months. Just like you should when a relationship you treasure ends. Reba shook her head, ridding the terrible thoughts inside it. Had he not tried to get Barbra Jean to go to marriage counsling? Yes, he had. Hadn't Barbra Jean instead gone to bars on the nights of their marriage counsling? Yes, she had. Had Brock ever sat down to listen to Barbra Jean's crazy ramblings about her day? No, he hadn't...at least not as much as he should have for a loving husband. Had Barbra Jean ever supported him in the way a wife should when her husband wanted to change his career or needed anti-depressants? No, she hadn't...well, the career change was dramtic. Reba closed her eyes, glad it was almost over. No more late night talks. No more fighting in front of the kids and their friends. No more death hugs from Barbra Jean. Reba smiled at the thought of peace. She knew that would never come, but still she would dream about it. Slipping under the water, she prayed for both of her dearest friends. _

**Funny how love comes and goes.**

**With the tears that fill my life does it show.**

She held her breath when his snoring stopped. He coughed shortly before drifting back to snoring again. Leaning back into the chair, the woman tapped her fingers lightly on her knees. He was so peaceful when he was knocked up on cough syrup. She smiled gently at the little joke, afraid to even chuckle. Watching him sleep on her couch had become a hobby for her. She knew it would appear weird to many who knew her, but she didn't care. This was her joy in life at the moment. No one was ever awake at this time of night anyway. She had nothing to worry about. The long white legs of the woman slipped from their resting place in the chair, her feet landing softly on the floor. She curled her painted toes, feeling the rug under her feet. This was how it started the night before. She had slowly relaxed, letting her thoughts and heart get the better of her. She knew now was the time to walk back to her room, shut the door, and pretend to sleep the next two hours; but how could she, when at this moment, they were the only ones in the house. She'd have plenty of time to watch him before sneaking into the kitchen to make his favorite breakfast. Today, after all, was his last day of staying with her. For that afternoon, he would be moving the last of his things into the little apartment on the other side of town. She sighed, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. She grinned slightly when a content sigh escaped his lips. She remembered laying awake next to him when they were married. She would forget her act of being quiet and let a sigh escape her lips only for him to return it, subconsiously, with one of his own. After four and a half years, he was still so in tune with her. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.

_A young redhead leaned over the sleeping form of her husband of five years. She watched as his chest raised and fell, taking the blanket with him everytime. She smiled softly at him, letting her eyes rest on his face. She traced a finger down his nose, enjoying the change of his face. His eyebrows scrunched together and he swatted at her hand. She silently chuckled, doing it once more before deciding to leave him alone. Working late had started to take it's toll on her husband. His sleep was now very precious, but still he had made time to make her happy. Reba rested her head on her hand, her bouncy curls falling around her arm as she did so. She returned her eyes to his chest, letting a content sigh slip from her lips. Freezing in everything she was doing, her eyes and ears focused on his still body. When an equally content sigh came from him, Reba cupped the side of his face with her small hand, and ran her thumb over his cheek bone. Brock smiled big when he realized his wife was wide awake, torturing him with little touches and kisses she was giving him now. Sneaking his hand to her cheek, he pulled her to his lips for a surprise kiss. Reba giggled softly against his lips, whispering a good morning. Brock opened his eyes, starring straight into hers. They smiled at each other, sharing another kiss as the sun broke through the curtains and fell to their bed. Brock tucked Reba's hair behind her ear as she leaned over him again. Taking Brock's hand into one of her own, Reba intertwined their fingers, smiling softly when Brock kissed the back of her hand. Next thing either of them knew, Cheyenne was needing their attention. _

**So listen to my heart beat once again.**

**Because of you I hope this feeling never ends.**

The woman ran a hand through her red curls when she felt herself scooting closer to the edge of the seat. Why was she allowing herself to do this? She should stand up, walk to her room, and let him make breakfast as she caught her composure. She sighed again, but this time she did it to hear him repeat it. A grin stretched across her face, knowing she was now trapped for good in the spell he unknowingly casted upon her. She sat on the edge of the small coffee table closest to the chair. Crossing one leg over the other and placing her left elbow on her knee, she rested her head in her palm and watched him sleep again. Oh, how she loved when he slept so soundly. He was so calm and handsome, she couldn't help but stare at him for hours. Waking up at two in the morning just to do so had become a natural part of her sleeping pattern, and she no longer needed an alarm to wake her up for it. Of course, working at home didn't hurt her chances of catching a few z's during lunch. Would she miss him when he left this afternoon? She hoped not, but knew she would. He had been living with her for over two months now. She expected him to be leaving soon. He hadn't wanted to take advantage of her nor over stay his welcome. She sighed again, but this time it was because she knew he would never over stay his welcome. She relied on him again. Maybe not in the same ways she did before, but in a much more selfish way. She wanted to see his face when he walked through the door after a long day of cleaning teeth. She wanted to make his favorite dinner when his day was filled with biting children or children afraid of the drill. She wanted to be in his arms again. She wanted him to hold her tight and to never let her go. To kiss the side of her head and say he loved her with everything he had. Uncrossing her legs, she slipped around to the other side of the table, still far from him. She ran both her hands through her hair, ignoring the screaming half inside of her. The side that told her he would only hurt her again, that he didn't love her anymore and this was useless, that she had only been spending too much time with him, that she didn't love him. Taking a shaky breath, she stood to her feet but still stared at him. She enjoyed the new angle, smiling softly at how funny the inside of his mouth looked when he opened it to snore.

**Silly Me.**

**I fell in love again.**

**We started out as friends.**

_Twirling her spoon around in her steaming soup, Reba stared across her kitchen table in a daze until Brock burst through the back door with a smile stretched across his face and a white torn envelope in his hands. Reba let go of her spoon, smiling back at him. He sat next to her at the table, tossing the envelope towards her. Reba's smile faded a bit as she read the letters on the front. Glancing back up to Brock, her face remained the same. "What? No reaction?" Brock's smile grew and he stood up, walking over to the stove. He leaned over the pot, smelling the chicken noodle soup. Reba's smile grew and she turned to watch him as he danced around her kitchen. He stopped in front of her. "I'm finally divorced. This is all over with, Reba!" Brock grabbed her hands from her lap, and pulled her to him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and used his other hand to hold her left hand. Brock started their short little dance before twirling her around a few seconds later. He gently let go of her hand, making sure she could stand steady without him. "Oh, this is a great feeling, Reba. I don't have to worry about going home to agrue anymore. I can stay at the office or golf course for as long as I want. I feel like celebrating!" Brock's eyes widened, and Reba couldn't help but continue to giggle at him. "That reminds me. Barbra Jean's throwing a party. She seems happier than me...I swear!" Brock held up his hands, showing he didn't have anything crossed. "She wanted me to invite you when I came over here. She says she would have done it herself, but she's real busy planning." Reba rolled her eyes in a playful manner, moving past Brock to grab her soup. Setting it in the sink and taking the second to let the news settle in, Reba turned her back to Brock. He didn't seem to notice though as he walked, whistling an unfamilar tune, to the stove with a bowl of his own in his hand. "Mmm...This smells good. You mind if I have some? I won't be able to eat anything on my way back to the office." Reba shook her head no, smiling when he winked at her. "Thanks, Babe." A short laugh escaped him as he poured soup into his bowl. Reba shook her head again, glad he seemed like his old self. She only wondered how Barbra Jean was truly feeling. She'd have to stop by some time later. _

_"Uh, did Barbra Jean say what time and when the party would be?" Reba sat at the kitchen island as Brock sat down in her previous spot. He shook his head no, slurping his first bite off the spoon. Reba watched him for a minute before deciding to clean the kitchen, starting with the dishes. "Well, I guess I'll have to go by there later. Do you know when she'll be home?" Brock, once again, shook his head, not seeming too interested in this choice of conversation. Reba raised an eyebrow as he scarfed down the soup. She left the last of the soup heating up on the stove in case he wanted more, and from the looks of it he would. She smiled sweetly as his eyes lit up again. "What? Bite your tongue? Burn the inside of your mouth?" Brock chuckled quietly at her before standing up for a second bowl. He walked behind her, their backs touching as she washed her bowl out and he poured himself a second helping. Neither adult seemed to notice nor care of the position they were in. _

_"No, I need somewhere to stay until I can find a place. It's so hard finding a nice little apartment. So, do you mind..." Reba interupted him before he could finish. She knew what he was going to say, and had already figured her answer out. It wasn't hard to come to either. Over the past four months, they had grown to be friends again. They could joke and tease without it being painful. This was what Reba had missed since they had gotten a divorce. She wanted it back, and any chance to improve it was going to be taken. _

_"Yeah, you can stay. I mean...You'll have to sleep on the couch, but it's not like you haven't done that before." Brock moved away from her, leaving a cooled air behind in his place. Reba cleared her throat, watching him sit back down. _

_"Well, I wasn't thinking that, but I guess it could work if you seriously don't mind." Brock glanced back at her, noticing the slight blush on her cheeks and sparkle in her blue eyes. He smiled at her as she nodded her head yes. Brock turned back to his lunch, glad she had suggested he stay here. He wasn't sure if he was ready to be so far from her...the kids. Brock looked at her for a quick second, watching as she stood on her tippy toes to put away the bowl. They're friendship was definitely back. Brock smiled as a warm rush spread through his body._

Snapping out of her daze, the woman looked around the room. Why, she didn't know. Everyone was gone for the night. Being reminded that she had more time than any other night, she eased down to her knees, sitting on the floor next to the couch. She smiled at him, still slightly afraid to touch him. Why did she have to love this man? She sighed again, grinning when he returned it. There was one reason. Looking down to her hands, she played with her fingers and listened to him sleep. Couldn't she remember the way he had hurt her before? She could. Didn't she promise to never love him ever again? She had, maybe once or twice. Had she ever truly meant it? Maybe she did; maybe she didn't. The woman looked up, almost ashamed of herself. He wasn't any good for her, but still her heart called out for him. She closed her eyes, trying to keep the tears from slipping through. Had she not learned anything from what he had done to her? She shook her head no, chuckling softly to herself at the irony of everything. She was in love with her ex. In love with the man she wasn't even suppose to like. She was best friends with a man who knew everything about her, and used it against her so many times before. But still she was in love with a man who was off limits to her. It was against everything she stood for and then some. The woman lifted her eyes, and ran them over his face, avoiding his lips as much as possible as she did so.

**You'd think I would have learned from the hurt before.**

**Foolish me.**

**Should I have closed the door. **

**Promised, even swore to never love this way.**

**Oh foolish me.**

_Reba pulled, yet again, another load of Brock's clothes mixed in with her laundry out of the dryer. How he managed to toss his things in with her's amazed Reba everytime. She had even bought him his own laundry basket and __detergent.__Maybe he was wanting to smell like her, or maybe he wanted her to smell like him. A simple and quiet way of saying she was his. Reba smiled softly before shaking her head quickly. She couldn't be thinking like that. He was just too lazy to do his own laundry. Reba shut the dryer door with her foot, placing the basket on her hip as she made her way back inside her house. The silence it held surprised her, but she didn't have time to question it today. Having Brock back in the house had added more things to her to do list. She was having to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Another person's laundry, dishes, and grocery preferences were added to everything she did around the house. Brock had even managed to coax her into searching for a little apartment for him. Why she fell for his puppy dog eyes, pleas of help, and sweet talk were beyond her. It wasn't like she had to keep him happy. If he didn't like how things were going in her house then he could leave, but still she just couldn't find it to tell him that. She didn't want him to leave. He had brought something back into the house she hadn't felt or seen in a long time. It was almost like the house had become a home again. The kids were always home for dinner, more willing for family time, and seemed to be getting along better. Of course they still had countless __arguments __over silly things, but they were siblings. What could you expect? Reba folded the last of her clothes, leaving Brock's laying in a mess on the kitchen table. He would be home soon for lunch anyways. He could fold them then and make his own lunch for a change. Reba climbed the stairs to her bedroom, opening her door quickly as she was about to lose the basket resting on her hip. She set it on her bed, reaching in to grab her pile of shirts, when her eyes fell upon the letter sitting at the edge of her side of the bed. Something about it made her forget everything she was doing as she reached for it. Looking over her shoulder to be safe, Reba peeled the envelope open, glad whoever had sent it to her didn't lick it close. She swallowed as she pulled out a piece of printer paper, folded four even times. Taking a deep breath, she realized she couldn't recongize the handwriting. Normally, she was really good with figuring out which member of the family had written what. It was how she had always managed to tell who's homework didn't have their name on it without even having to read it. Jake had been amazed by that for quite sometime before he hit high school and figured out her secret. Reba chuckled to herself before pulling the letter back out in front of her. Sitting on the end of her bed, she started to read the letter to herself. _

_Dear Reba Roo,_

_I know I haven't thanked you for all you've done around here for me, and I'm sorry for that. I've realized how much I did this to you in the past, and I can't help but feel like I'm doing everything wrong all over again. I don't want to do that, Reba. I want you to be happy, and taking care of me like you had for twenty years is probably not your idea of happy anymore. Although, my clothes have never smelled better...I hated the scent Barbra Jean used...I need to start helping out, pulling my weight around the house. So, I have, for you, three amazing gifts. If you want to know what they are then you must come downstairs, My Darlin'. I promise it's nothing you won't want...or anything __inappropriate__for 'just friends'. We are friends, right? I'll be waiting...Hurry up! Oh, this is still your side of the bed, right?_

_Reba looked up from the letter, still slightly confused. Didn't she know Brock's handwriting? Yes, she could almost sign his name just like he could. This wasn't anywhere close to it. It wasn't Cheyenne, Kyra, or Jake's handwriting. Definately not Barbra Jean's. The lower case i's weren't dotted with little hearts. Van had chicken scratch and would have suggested sending it to her in a text. Reba rolled her eyes, wondering who he could have asked to write this for him. She figured the only way to find out was to go downstairs so; she stood up, taking a tired breath as she left her room with the letter still in her hand. Reba walked into her kitchen, smelling something delicious. Brock watched from the backyard as Reba searched through the kitchen for the smell. He wanted to see how long it would take her to find the take out box with her favorite meal held firmly in his hands, but neither of them had the time. He stepped into the kitchen through the double doors, clearing his throat softly and chuckling when she jumped at the noise. "I thought you could use a nice lunch...outside. Join me for a pinic?" Reba smiled when he lifted up what she was looking for, and before he could open his mouth again Reba shouted an excited yes. Moving quickly, she left him standing empty handed in the doorway. Smiling Brock followed her into the back yard where a patch of the fresh green grass was covered by the quilt he had spent months making. Reba stopped at the side of it, turned to him with a confused looked, and pointed down to the blanket. Brock nodded his head, motioning for her to sit down. With another excited smile she fell to the quilt without hesitation, and waited for Brock to join her before opening the takeout box. He smiled as she closed her eyes and moaned in happiness as the taste of her first bite tingled her tastebuds. He laughed when she quickly ate more. "You want to know what the other gifts are?" Reba faced him, completely content with things the way they were. He had remembered her favorite food, her love of pinics in the backyard, and most of all her hobby of making quilts for the ones she loved. What more could he have for her? She nodded her head, taking another bite. Brock pointed towards the house and up towards her bedroom window. Reba followed his finger, her eyes getting bigger and filling with tears at the sight of roses trailing down from her window sill to the yard. Her head shot back to him, her face holding a look of why. He shrugged his shoulders, thinking he should have done it a long time ago. _

_"Oh, come on! You have to have a reason for all this...I mean, that had to have taken you forever to do. How much did it cost?" Reba turned her head back to the roses, smiling sweetly at the sight. They were beautiful and perfect. Setting her food down, she forgot about listening to his answer, and she stood up from the quilt, walking over to the roses. Brock smiled, watching as she ran her fingers lightly over them. He cleared his throat, wondering if his next gift would receive the same reaction as the first two. _

_"There's one more. Would you like to know now...or wait until later?" Reba kept her back to him as she thought. He had brought her lunch on a pinic, planted her roses, and managed to make her feel special. What else could he have? Reba pulled herself away from the roses, deciding she had plenty of time to look at them later. She nodded her head, sitting back down next to Brock. He sat up a little straighter, pulled an envelope, smaller than the one that held the letter, out of his jacket pocket, and handed it to her. Reba slowly opened it, hoping she would love it. "What is it?" Reba asked as she read over the thin sheets of paper in her hands. _

_"Well, the first one says I've paid, and will be paying, for an experience gardener to take care of the roses for the rest of your life." He waited, taking in the beautiful smile on her face as it grew bigger. "The second one says...I'll also pay for a maid to clean your house two to three days a week, depending on which you would prefer." Reba stared at the man next to her in shock for a few minutes. He really had done all of this for her? He had wanted to thank her for just doing his laundry and cooking his meals by doing all of this? Reba felt herself lunging towards Brock, wrapping her arms around his neck as tears of joy and shock fell from her eyes. He was a little startled at first, but quickly pulled her closer to him, enjoying the way she felt in his arms. Reba suddenly realized what she was doing, and out of old habit pushed away from him. She turned back to the food at her feet, wipping her tears away before taking another bite. _

_"Thank you, Brock. I really love all of this, but you really shouldn't have. A simple thank you would have been all it took." She glanced at him confused as to why he was shaking his head with an ashamed look on his face. _

_"No, you deserve this, all of this, after everything I've done to you." He paused, looking into her eyes for a second before continuing. "Are we good? I mean, are we friends again?" Reba gave him a small smile, nodding her head yes. She wasn't lying either. She had already been friends with him again for quite some time. It was the best part of her day when he came home. She looked away, realizing he might have been more than a friend. You don't prepare your best friend's favorite meals every night just so he won't frown. You don't wash, fold, and put away your friend's clothes just for the chance to talk to him as he read a book on his bed. You definately don't stand around the corner, knowing he's on his way around it, just so you can have the chance to bump into his body. Reba swallowed the lump in her throat, noticing they hadn't said anything for awhile and Brock was starring hungrily at her food. She smiled, stabbing the fork into the pasta before holding it out to him. Brock quickly ate the bite she was offering him, glad she could still read him. Reba looked into her lap. You didn't spend a slightly romantic afternoon with your friend/ex, whom you happen to have a crush on. Reba looked away, reaching for the pinic basket at their feet. She hoped they had something to drink. She had just admitted to herself that she, Reba Hart, had a minor crush on he, Brock Hart. Brock smiled, content with spending his lunch hour with this lovely lady. _


	2. Chapter 2

**They say that love's a chace you take.**

**You know I've had my share.**

**But when the nights get oh so cold,**

**I need you there.**

Taking a deep breath, she looked back at the man next to her. She wished she had better self-control, but she didn't. This man had always been her weakness, even before she knew anything about him. Going to football games just to see him run and to hear his name being called over the speakers. Tossing books aside to go to parties with her friends hoping to see him. She had always done things unlike herself for him. The man she knew, from the first time they talked, would forever have her heart. She had thought sometime in the past year he'd given it back to her, but sitting here now she realized it was her imagination playing tricks on her. She never had it back. She never would ever again. She sighed, closing her eyes and smiling when she heard the familar echo. She thought about all the other men she had dated before and after him. Terry, Parker, Bill, Brian, Ted, Jack, and a couple men from her scrapbook. To a point, she had loved each and every one of them. Terry and Parker for a long amount of time, but deep down neither had felt right. Of course, they were good men, and treated her the way she had always dreamed of being treated. Still, something had been missing. Bill and Ted had only been for one date each, but she had fun both times. They were special memories to her. Brian. He came close to being the one. Everything was perfect about him, and she knew he loved her so dearly. Still, something had been missing. Jack had been even closer than Brian. He had just messed things up so badly. Making her the other woman and putting her through so much when he had left for such a long period of time. If he would have been honest, he might have had a chance. Opening her eyes, she stared at the golden haired, tan man beside her. With him, there had never really been something missing. During their weak moments as a couple, she had to admit she wondered why she loved him, but still she felt he had everything she wanted. Allowing her eyes to trace his arm, she bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to touch him. She didn't last long before her hand lifted from her lap and hovered over his arm. Did she really want to risk him waking up? It could be a terribly embarassing moment. She would need an excuse, something that he would believe. Finding one quickly, she let her hand pull his arm away from his chest, smiling excitedly when he didn't move or stop snoring. She held his arm up with one hand as the other outlined his fingers. What was she doing? This was dangerous. Forcing his hand to curve, she placed it against her cheek, closing her eyes at the contact. Of course, she wanted him to do this on his own, but for now she could live with this. She smiled against the palm of his hand, missing their mornings and nights. Times when it was just the two of them, holding and talking, laughing and teasing. Times when she would wake up to his sparkling blue eyes and shiny white teeth. Waking up, knowing he hadn't left the bed until she awoke like she had asked him the night before. She felt a tear slip down her cheek and run along the line of his hand. She opened her eyes, pulling his hand away from her cheek. She intertwined their fingers with one hand, and wiped the tear track off her cheek with the other. She giggled at the beauty before her, forcing her eyes to travel up his arm and stop on his lips. She placed the back of his hand against her chest above her heart, moving slightly closer to the couch. Licking her own lips, she wondered how far she was going to go tonight. Obviously, she didn't have any control over her actions, and couldn't be held responsible for anything she was to do. She did have a few glasses of wine at dinner. He knew what she could be like after wine. With a small nodd of her head, she leaned onto the couch, pausing to watch him. He had stopped snoring, his mouth closed almost all the way. Was he awake, scared of who was leaning over him? Or did he know it was her and was waiting to see what she would do? She closed her eyes, ignoring the questions as she placed her cheek next to his but still not touching. The warmth that spread between them filled her entire body with a heated adrenline rush. She pulled back, slightly, her lips now just above his.

**They say that love's a chance you take.**

**You know I've had my share.**

**But when the nights get oh so cold,**

**I need you there.**

She wanted to kiss him, wanted to hold him, and wanted to love him, but how could she when he was no longer her's. How could she when he didn't love her? She would only be setting herself up for heartache, and did she really want to go through that again? The woman let go of his hand, pushed herself away from the couch, and walked into the kitchen. No, she didn't want that heartache ever again, and if ignoring what she felt for Brock was the best way to do it then she would. Reba stopped behind the counter, looking into the living room. He had rolled onto his side, snoring again. She shook her head at her stupidity. She had almost blown everything. Turning to the refrigerator, she grabbed the carton of milk, four eggs, butter, and a water bottle. She set all the items on the counter, starting the coffee maker. She was running behind on breakfast. Brock would be awake any minute now, and she didn't want him to miss a good breakfast on his last day. She quickly scrambled the eggs, cooked some bacon, made two slices of toast, placed it all on a plate, and filled his mug full of coffee. She set both the plate and mug on the table, walking into the living room quickly. She eased outside, grabbing the newspaper from the driveway, and entered the house again. Reba stood by the door, hugging the newspaper to her chest, and watched him sleep. He wasn't any good for her, but that wasn't an issue anymore. She loved him, and deep down that was all that really mattered.

**Silly me, I fell in love again.**

**We started out as friends.**

**You'd think I would have learned.**

**Oh foolish me.**

**Silly me.**

Walking to the couch, she sat on the coffee table with the newspaper still tightly wrapped in her arms. Letting out the breath she was holding, Reba pushed his shoulder gently. Brock moaned before rolling over. Reba rolled her eyes, lifting her legs up. She was not in the mood to mess with his mood this morning. She placed both her feet on his back before kicking him one right after the other.

"I'M UP!" Brock shouted as he rolled onto his back, trapping her feet in the process. He rubbed his eyes before looking at Reba. Smirking at him, she sat with the newspaper resting in her lap and her hands supporting her as she leaned backwards. "Did you have to kick me?" The smirk turned into a smile, and she shrugged her shoulders.

"I was bored, and you wouldn't wake up. It happened. Can I have my feet back now?" Brock shook his head, resting his arm against her legs. He could smell the food and coffee from the other room, but he didn't feel like getting up. He wasn't feeling any better than the night before. Reba could see the strained look on his face, and wondered what was bothering him. Did he know what she had done just a few minutes ago? Was he trying to find a way to reject her while he had her trapped? Reba's heart raced a mile a minute before he coughed and she remembered he was sick. Pushing herself forward, she wrapped one arm around her legs and placed the other hand on his forehead. "You're burnin' up. Did you take the medication I gave you last night?" Brock nodded his head, placing one of his own hands over her's to keep the cold coming from it on his forehead.

"You're hands are freezing. Are you ok, Reba?" She pulled her hand away, trying to lift his body off her feet with little luck. She gave up, falling backwards onto the coffee table. She used her hands as support again as she looked at him.

"I'm worried, Brock. You haven't gotten any better, and now you have a fever. I think we should take you to the doctor." She ignored his question. She had him to take care of and to worry about for now. It wasn't like she was sick anyways. She had just been sitting in the cold living room. Nothing to be concerned about. "Come on, get up. I've made breakfast." Brock lifted up his back, waiting for her to pull her feet away before sitting up. Reba left the living room, placing the newspaper on the table for him to read when he finally made his way into the kitchen. She cleared her throat, calling for him to hurry up before his food got cold. She picked up the phone, calling the doctor's office to set up an appointment. Reba hung up the phone as Brock sat down at the kitchen table. It had taken him long enough, she thought before joining him. It didn't take long for him to notice she didn't have a plate.

"You gonna eat?" He raised an eyebrow, knowing when she didn't eat breakfast she had a lot on her mind. Reba shook her head, sipping her coffee for a little more time. Brock watched her in between bites, hoping everything was ok, or at least if it wasn't she would tell him.

"I already ate. I didn't sleep well last night so; I got up early this morning. I checked on you about an hour ago. You sounded like you were sleeping soundly." Reba hinted at her earlier actions, attempting to get him to slip up. She needed to know if he knew her secret. Brock nodded his head, telling her about his dream. Reba zoned out when he began some type of story involving golf and a bra commercial. She waited for him to finish before leaving the room. She ran a hand over her face as she climbed the stairs. She needed a long hot shower. Brock watched her leave the kitchen, hoping she didn't listen to what he just said. His dream did have a golf course, but it had nothing about playing the game. He wiped at his forehead, finishing his breakfast quickly. He had to stop dreaming about her. She might be the best thing to ever cross his path, but he couldn't be with her. He couldn't want her anymore. She was off limits, and wouldn't give him a second chance even if the world was ending. Brock decided to leave her alone for rest of the morning, washing the dishes silently. When he finished that, the only thing he needed to do was pack the last of his things. He frowned, having to leave her was not one of his favorite things. As a matter of fact, it didn't even qualify for his dislike list. It was horrible, and he knew it would hurt him later. It was just something he had to do. She didn't want him anymore. Probably, deep down, she didn't even like him. She was just being his friend for the kids' sake. Brock shook his head, placing the last of his clothes in a suitcase, zipping it up quickly. Taking that one and the other two out to his car, he listened as the shower in Reba's bathroom shut off. He closed his eyes, wishing they were still married.

Reba walked out of her room, dressed in a pair of old jeans and a loose t-shirt. She planned on helping Brock move his things into his apartment and unpack what had already been taken over the past couple of days. She descended the stairs just as Brock came back inside from taking his suitcases to his truck. She smiled at him, loving the way the sunlight glowed against his skin. She stopped on the last stair, waiting for his instructions. If she had learned anything from being his wife, it was that he liked being in charge while moving. He had his own little system that worked quite well in her opinion.

"Hey, I think I can fit the rest of my things in the back seat of my truck so; you won't have to help me today....Uh, thanks for letting me stay here for so long, Reba." Brock walked over to her from the front door. He had already packed most of the items he needed, and had decided to start his goodbye. He couldn't believe it had finally came, and it was so hard. Deep down, maybe he knew this would seem impossible. Maybe he liked pretending it was a piece of cake. With the last two boxes sitting by the door, Reba knew what was coming next. She hated goodbyes more than anything, especially from this man. Neither one knew how long it would be before they talked again, and didn't want to rush their last few words. Reba nodded her head, looking to the floor for all her answers. Their silence lasted hours it felt like, but in reality had only been a few seconds. Brock played with his hands, looking over his shoulder at the boxes. "Umm...you set the doctor's appointment up for me?" Reba nodded once again, remembering she hadn't told him when it was.

"Yeah, it's on Monday at 3:30. I guess I'll pick Jake up from school, and Henry and Elizabeth up from daycare. You know, since you'll be busy." Brock nodded his head this time. Reba glanced up at him, swallowing the lump in her throat. Why did this have to be so hard? It wasn't like they weren't ever going to talk again. They had agreed to be friends again, and friends did things together, didn't they? She could always offer to make him lunch like she had been the past two and half months. "Well, uh, you sure you don't need any help? I wouldn't mind." She rolled her eyes. She had chickened out. What did she have to be scared about? It wasn't like he could hurt her again. They weren't even a couple. She started for the door, waiting by the boxes for his answer. Brock watched her, noticing the nervous scared behavior. Was she afraid of truly being alone now? She shouldn't be. The kids would be home on Sunday, and Barbra Jean was sure to stop by. He shook his head, finding it rediculous. She was probably excited he was leaving. She had to be tired of having her ex-husband around all the time.

"No, I've got it, but thanks anyways." Brock bent down to pick up one of the boxes. Reba took it upon herself to carry the other one out to his truck for him. They walked side by side in complete silence as his truck got closer and closer. Neither one looked at the other until both boxes were in the back seat. Reba held back the tears as she listened to the doors close quietly. It was really happening. He was leaving her again, and the pain felt almost as bad as it did the first time. She wondered if going through the same hurt as before could kill you. She took a deep shaky breath, waiting for him to talk. There was no point in dwelling on these things. He wasn't her's to cry over anymore. Brock continued to face his truck, watching her reflection in the shiny red paint. She wiped quickly at her cheek, hiding it well as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Was she sad he was leaving? Was he hurting her in the same way he did before? He felt anger boil inside, but not at her. He was angry with himself for being so stupid, for not realizing this would bring old memories and feelings back to the surface for her. Brock cleared his throat, turning back around to face her. He saw her guard shoot up, and he immediatly pulled his up as well. They may have been friends, but after years of hurting each other it was only a natural reaction. He didn't want to leave her alone, but he didn't want to over stay his welcome either. He had put it off long enough, and decided a quick goodbye would be the best.

"I better go." Brock walked away from her, climbing into his truck without turning to look at her. Reba took a deep breath, stepping towards his passenger window and tapping on it softly. Rolling it down, he kept his eyes on the steering wheel, turning the key in the ignition. Reba let her breath out, wrapping her arms around her chest and begging for the comfort it usually brought.

"I'll see ya later." She smiled, incase he was to look up, and stepped back from the truck. She hoped the phrase would let him know she wanted to see him again. She waved shortly as he pulled away from the curb, leaving her outside her house alone. Reba waited for a few mintues, allowing the breeze to blow her hair freely, before walking back inside her house. The quiet empty house that was all her's for the weekend. She sighed, frowning when there wasn't an echo to answer her. She missed him already. Feeling the tears slip down her cheeks again, she pushed away from the door. She let them fall as they pleased, figuring no one was going to come over today anyways. She flopped down on the couch, still covered in the blankets he used, and curled into a ball. He was gone, and probably wouldn't come over anytime soon.


End file.
